Here are a few pictures from the second stop on mine and my mom’s adventure through the alps.

By James C. Hawkins | June 05, 2024 | 5-minute read

Nestled in the heart of the Austrian Alps, like a secret treasure waiting to be uncovered, lies the enchanting city of Innsbruck. This winter sports utopia, having twice played host to the Olympic Games, beckons to the lazy skier in all of us, promising slopes as well-worn as our favorite pair of sweatpants. As the northern hemisphere reluctantly sheds its winter cloak, Innsbruck stubbornly clings to the allure of snow, like a child refusing to relinquish their cherished security blanket.

My quest was simple: to unravel the enigma of the notorious Austrian unfriendliness. Of course, most stereotypes are about as reliable as a drunk archer’s aim, but I was determined to dive headfirst into the fray, risking life and limb (or at least a bruised ego) for the sake of experiential truth. And so, with my trusty travel companion (my mother) by my side, We embarked on a three-day odyssey through the streets of Innsbruck, armed with an insatiable curiosity and comfortable walking shoes.

The Tyrolean Kingdom: Our arrival on that crisp Wednesday morning was marked by a delightful absence of plan or purpose. Unshackled from the tyranny of itineraries, my mother and I meandered through the pristine streets of Innsbruck, marveling at the almost obsessive cleanliness and the eerie post-Easter calm that had descended upon the city like a ghostly shroud. The tourist drought had transformed the once-bustling metropolis into a veritable ghost town, but in a way that was more charming than chilling.

Streaming Live!: A mere stone’s throw from our lodgings, the mighty river ‘Inn’ surged with unbridled energy, as if determined to live up to its rather unimaginative name. The hypnotic babble of the fast-flowing water provided the perfect soundtrack to our aimless wanderings and coffee-fueled musings on life’s great mysteries, such as the perplexing nomenclature of ‘buildings’ that have already been built.

Cave of Wonders: Embracing the spirit of true adventurers, my mother and I allowed ourselves to be led by the whims of chance, eventually stumbling upon the breathtaking Jesuit Church of Innsbruck. Now, as any seasoned European traveler knows, the cardinal rule is to give a wide berth to any church that demands payment for entry. But this architectural gem? Utterly deserted! Not a single tourist, worker, or even a stray soul to be found. We had the entire sanctuary to ourselves, free to bask in the beauty of the art and the grandeur of the architecture at our own leisurely pace, blissfully exempt from the usual herding and shushing.

Innsbruck, in a rare display of meteorological benevolence, blessed us with unseasonably warm weather, and like any self-respecting tourists, we wasted no time in planting ourselves firmly in the nearest beer garden. One drink led to another, and before we knew it, our liquid courage had propelled us to new heights of ambition, as we valiantly resolved to visit the Hofburg castle and the Golden Roof museum – though, in a tragic oversight, I neglected to document these exploits with photographic evidence.

A View from the Top: Emboldened by the cooperative weather gods, we made the executive decision to ascend to the lofty heights of Nordkette via trolley, eager to drink in the panoramic splendor of the city and indulge in some well-deserved relaxation. The vista that greeted us at the summit was nothing short of awe-inspiring, with the mountains still draped in a mantle of snow while the valleys below burst forth with the vibrant green of spring. It was a sight that would have brought a tear to the eye of even the most jaded traveler, had I not been too busy nursing my bruised pride after an unfortunate encounter with a patch of half-melted snow.

Reflections on Innsbruck: So, the burning question remains: are Austrians truly as unfriendly as their reputation suggests? The jury, I’m afraid, is still out on that one. Perhaps, like the rest of us mere mortals, they simply hold dear to their hearts something precious (in this case, those awe-inspiring mountains), and the prospect of sharing it with outsiders is about as appealing as swapping toothbrushes with a stranger. Yet, despite the stereotypes, I found myself on the receiving end of genuine Tyrolean hospitality during my brief sojourn, and I can say with certainty that I would gladly return to this enchanting city. Who knows, I might even muster the courage to strap on a pair of skis next time – if only for the sake of a more authentic experience of going downhill.